


Carry On

by astrangerenters



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2011-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though he didn't realize it at the time, it was the skirt that was going to lead him somewhere unexpected. The skirt was a woman's, but it led him to a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry On

He was laughing at the comedian with the crooked teeth when he heard the explosion.

He was just about to turn the TV off when the glass shattered, and the suitcase came flying in to land almost too perfectly on the small table in his living room. Ohno blinked at the sight of the bag, the red and black rolling suitcase that had come flying through the sliding glass door, straight through the clothes he'd hung up on the line on his tiny balcony. It just sat there, having tipped over his bowl of oranges and spilt his glass of barley tea. Even then the tea was dripping onto the floor in steady, measured drops.

He stumbled to his feet in a daze, gingerly stepping around the glass shards to gaze out at the night. He noticed the fire, several blocks away. And he turned around again, eyeing the bag. Did the explosion and the mystery bag have anything in common?

Eventually the comedian with the crooked teeth disappeared and the emergency news broadcast filled him in. A plane, 34 passengers aboard, had just gone down in Suginami Ward.

At the time, it didn't seem strange to go back to the bag on the table and unzip it. It was a woman's bag, filled with clothes with a freshly laundered smell. On top of the pile was a red skirt with white polka dots, and though he didn't realize it at the time, it was the skirt that was going to lead him somewhere unexpected. The skirt was a woman's, but it led him to a man.

\--

As a manga artist, Ohno didn't work on a set schedule. It enabled him to walk to the crash site again and again, every day for weeks. The plane had landed in a busy neighborhood, and block after block was closed off. The fires had been terrible - not only had everyone on the plane been killed, but several people in the buildings nearby had been killed as well.

Ohno wasn't the only one who visited the site. People who had lived in the damaged and destroyed buildings lingered outside the police tape. They wanted to get back into the neighborhood and see what was left of their homes, of everything they owned. Even if it seemed selfish in light of the tragedy and those who'd lost their lives, Ohno could understand it. His sliding glass doors had only just been replaced by his landlord - he'd only lost those and had felt rather inconvenienced during the days he'd had to tape up cardboard to keep the outside _outside_. Ohno figured he was selfish too.

Which was why he pulled the red and black rolling suitcase behind him every morning, past the elementary school where one of the engines had landed next to the jungle gym on the playground. He stood patiently at the police tape, staring along with the other people passing by or waiting for answers. And every day it was the same. The government was investigating the crash site, cataloging everything. Nobody was given leave to enter until the investigation was complete.

"This suitcase landed in my living room," he explained time and time again. "I think it came from the plane."

But they'd wave him off. They didn't seem to want to catalog something that had landed outside their set radius, at least not yet. Or maybe they just thought he was full of shit, looking for attention or money or something. "Take it to the police." "Take it to the airline."

He did neither of those things, at least he hadn't yet. What did the police care about the suitcase? If it had to do with the crash, it was a government problem. What did the airline care about the suitcase? They had enough to worry about, and one bag probably didn't matter. And so in Ohno's head, it made more sense to go back to the crash site every day. Maybe someone was looking for the bag.

After he'd first looked at the contents, the clothes and the toiletry bag inside, Ohno had started to feel extremely guilty. The person, the woman whose bag it had been - she had died. Even if the crash was an accident (and it was just about confirmed by the investigation as such) she had died. Where was she from? Where was she going? He brought it with every day, but he hadn't looked inside it again.

But it had been a few weeks now, and it didn't seem right. He wasn't trying hard enough. So he pulled the suitcase back to his building, up the stairs to his apartment. It thunked up each step, and he paused to pick it up in his arms instead. It had belonged to someone, he scolded himself.

He unzipped the bag as soon as it was on his table, bowing his head in apology for a few moments before rummaging through it again. The bag had no tags on it, no name and contact information on the card pocket. It had probably been in the overhead bin rather than the cargo hold. Those bags had to be tagged, Ohno figured. The toiletries were in decent condition, but they weren't unusual. Toothpaste, a travel-sized shampoo, some kind of fancy cream that women wore and Ohno didn't know much about.

It was only when he ended up calling Ninomiya, the guy who wrote the storyline for the manga he illustrated, that he figured out what to do. Or more like Nino thought he was an idiot. Ohno didn't much mind. He didn't always think about things the way Nino did.

"You've had this suitcase for three fucking weeks and you didn't report it?"

Nino had always been kind of blunt. It was why Ohno liked working for him - he gave clear instruction when it came to drawing and inking panels. "Well, I went to the scene and..."

"I'm coming over."

And like that Ninomiya was at his apartment, arms crossed as Ohno laid out everything that had been inside the bag. Nino had brought his laptop since Ohno had never had much interest in going online. He stole the Wi-fi signal from a neighboring apartment and pulled up a message board that had been set up for the victims' friends and families.

"Read off everything to me," Nino demanded, his small fingers breezing over the keys. "We're going to post a note about the bag."

Ohno felt a weight lift from his chest as Nino posted to the message board, listing a found red and black suitcase and its contents. He'd even added a picture he'd taken of the bag with his phone, the polka dot skirt visible at the top of the clothing pile.

And then Nino left. "I'll tell you if someone posts. And I'll have chapter six to you by next week."

It only took a day for someone to reply. Nino called while Ohno was in the bath, leaving a terse message that he was clearly just reading off his computer screen.

"I believe this bag belonged to my sister. Please call me at the following number, thank you very much..."

Ohno wrote the phone number down immediately, his hair still dripping wet as he dialed it.

"I'm Ohno Satoshi," he introduced himself politely. "You called about the bag?"

\--

He met Matsumoto Jun in a coffee shop just blocks from where the crash site was roped off. He was tall where Ohno was not, with focused eyes and a stern face. Ohno didn't smoke much, but Matsumoto Jun did. Whether it was a bad habit or because his sister had just died in a plane crash, Ohno didn't have a right to know.

He'd brought the bag with him, rolling it along the sidewalk as he had those first few weeks after the crash. Matsumoto had been polite, bowing deeply and holding out his phone before reaching for the bag. There was a pretty woman standing beside him in the photo, a pretty woman in a red skirt with white polka dots.

"My sister," he explained quietly. "She was coming back from a friend's in Sapporo. The friend had just had a baby."

"I see," Ohno said quietly. "I'm very sorry."

Matsumoto took his phone back and shoved it in his pocket, smashing his cigarette butt into the dinky little ashtray on the coffee shop table. They stayed in silence for a few minutes more as Matsumoto lifted the suitcase into his lap, unzipping it to examine the contents. Ohno suddenly felt terrible for having rummaged through the bag, but it was too late to undo it.

"Thank you. For reaching out through the message board, thank you very much," Matsumoto said as he zipped the bag back up. "The airline didn't have much to say, that most of the luggage hadn't been recovered or had burned in the fires. They put pictures up of the stuff they did find, but her bag wasn't there. So they offered to reimburse the cost."

Ohno looked down at his coffee cup.

"Reimburse," Matsumoto spat, taking out another cigarette and lighting it. "Yeah, that would have been nice of them."

"I'm glad to help then," he said.

What else was there to say, really? The family had had the funeral within the first few days after the crash - there'd been no way to distinguish between the bodies so there had been no body to wait for. It was almost a blessing in disguise for the family that the bag had come flying through his apartment glass. It didn't bring Matsumoto's sister back, but it was something.

The mystery of the red and black rolling suitcase was solved. Matsumoto was obviously tangled up in his grief, and Ohno didn't want to get in the way. He made excuses and left. His hand felt the slightest bit empty as he walked home.

\--

Life went on, and within a few months the red and black rolling suitcase receded to the back of Ohno's mind. After all, the investigation had closed, the clean-up had been completed, and they'd started to rebuild the neighborhood. There was a memorial park planned, but otherwise, not much had really changed forever.

So when his phone rang one evening and it was Matsumoto Jun on the line, Ohno apologized for not immediately recalling who he was. He agreed to meet the man at a local bar for a drink.

The months had been kind to Matsumoto, Ohno noticed. Where he'd been jittery and on edge during their previous meeting, understandably, now the man was calm. His long fingers still pinched cigarette after cigarette between them as they knocked back a few beers together, but the pain of his loss was not as immediate now. Ohno wondered why Matsumoto wanted to see him at all.

"I have a letter for you. Since I didn't have your address, I figured this was easiest. And besides, it's best to give these things in person," Matsumoto explained, handing him a small envelope. "To Ohno Satoshi-sama" had been written on the envelope in a fairly elegant hand.

He accepted the envelope with a polite nod.

"From my mother," Matsumoto said, sounding a little embarrassed. "She insisted. It took her a while to come to terms, so that's why I'm giving it to you now."

"No, don't apologize," Ohno said almost immediately. "Please tell her...please give...ah..."

Matsumoto grinned, and it looked better on him than grief and anger did. "I understand. I'll tell her."

They had a few more beers, chatting about nothing much in particular. They were very different people, that much Ohno could tell, but Matsumoto had a seriousness to him that Ohno admired. He was usually only serious himself when he was focusing on work or when Nino nagged him to focus on work.

He knew he was pretty drunk, and Matsumoto was too. So he didn't feel embarrassment in asking his companion to come over. "Do you want to see where it landed?"

Matsumoto nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, if you could show me, I'd...I think I'd like to see."

They stumbled back to the apartment, sobering slightly as they let the night air guide them along. Matsumoto hung in the doorway until Ohno physically dragged him inside. "I'm sorry for the mess," he apologized.

He pointed out the table, describing how the bag had landed. He pointed out the new sliding glass doors that led out to the balcony, explaining how it had shattered. He didn't know how fast the suitcase had been going, but "pretty damn fast" was his best estimate.

The envelope from Matsumoto's mother was still inside his pocket, and he didn't move away when Matsumoto himself leaned down and brought their mouths together. Matsumoto smelled like the bar they'd just been in, and Ohno supposed he did too. But the kiss wasn't a drunken kind, one you'd claim to forget having done come morning. This one meant almost too much for a second meeting.

When Matsumoto stepped back, he didn't seem apologetic. "Do you mind if I smoke in here?"

Ohno licked his lips, unsure how to react. "I don't have an ashtray," he said instead. "Could you go out on the balcony?"

He hung back in the living room while Matsumoto went outside obediently. Ohno was rarely one for deep introspection. Matsumoto had kissed him, he'd liked it, but it was rather sudden. And it was probably some strange final part of the grieving process. That's what Nino would say, Ohno thought. He doesn't really like you, Nino would explain, but he likes what you did for him.

He decided not to say anything. He liked Matsumoto as much as one could after two meetings and a kiss. It would be stupid to expect anything more.

Matsumoto didn't try to kiss him again. "Thanks for letting me see. I'm the type of person who..." he said hesitantly, "I'm the type that if there are blanks that can be filled in, I do whatever I can to fill them. If that makes any sense."

Ohno nodded. "Of course."

"So...thanks again. I'd better be going."

As soon as Matsumoto left, he pulled the envelope out of his pocket.

The note from Matsumoto's mother was kind, and Ohno didn't feel as though he deserved such words. All he'd done was find the suitcase. If it had landed anywhere else, they would have surely done the same. And maybe Matsumoto Jun would have kissed them instead.

But then he found the other note in the envelope. Not on decent card stock like the one from the mother. This was a scrawled note on some paper torn off a notepad hastily. These were Jun's words.

 _Ohno-san,_

 _I don't know you that well, but after the way you've shown us kindness, I want to know you better. You probably think, so what, I only found a suitcase. But that suitcase and your persistence in returning it was the reason my family could find peace. And the reason why I haven't lost myself. If it takes the rest of my life to truly express the depth of my gratitude, then I hope you will allow me to do so. If you would rather not meet again and wish to put this incident behind you, then I will not hold it against you._

 _I truly thank you._

 _Matsumoto Jun_

 

Heartfelt words Matsumoto Jun hadn't been able to say to his face, even though he'd kissed him. Ohno wasn't too sure he understood everything, but then again, a dead woman's suitcase had brought them together. Tragic, yes, but he supposed that everything had to happen for a reason. He decided that he didn't want to wait another few months before seeing him again.

He left the note behind and ran out of the apartment, feeling rather silly as his sneakers slapped the pavement, running like he was the romantic lead in some television drama. But he doubted most romantic leads were as out of shape as he was. He spotted Matsumoto just as he was heading down to the subway stop.

"Wait!" he called, out of breath. "Matsumoto-san, wait!"

Matsumoto turned around, looking back with a rather odd smile.

If the situation had taught Ohno anything, it had taught him that everything could vanish in an instant. All that might be left of him or of anyone he loved could be a suitcase full of clothes someday. If Matsumoto Jun wanted to know him better, he had to take it at face value. And whether that meant more kissing or just being friends, it didn't really matter. He had to take the leap. He had to act.

After all, he couldn't just sit back and wait for everything to come flying through the window.


End file.
